Breathless
by DespiteGatsby
Summary: "Now, Miss Redfield, are you going to come with me willingly?" The younger Redfield glared daggers at him. "No." "Pity," Wesker said flatly. Rating may change for later chapters
1. Taken

"Get the hell out of here!" Claire screamed at the inturder as he threw her up against another wall. He chuckled softly and bent down to pick her up by the throat once again. He held her suspended into the air, making her gasp for breath.

"Miss Redfield, you should watch your language, It's not very polite," Albert Wesker sneered.

"What the fuck do you want with me?" She asked him, trying to pry his fingers from her throat, but to no avail.

"I think you have something that belongs to me," Wesker told her, flicking his un-shaded eyes towards the coffee table.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Claire spat. "What do I have that you could possibly want?"

Wesker shook his head and flung her into the same wall, gaining a painful cry from her. He stalked over the the coffee table and studied it thoughtfully. Suddenly, he brought his foot down onto the table, splititing it into two pieces and sending tiny splinters of wood across the room.

"Ah, here we are," Wesker bent over, grabbing a metal case that was hidded inside of the desk. "Miss Redfield, it is quite rude to hide secrects from me you know."

"Go to hell," Claire spat.

Wesker who was brusing off wood splinters from his jacket, smiled sadistically. "Been there, done that."

He opened up the case to find the contents still there and shut it back up with a pleased smile. He sulked over to the wounded Claire, who was using the wall for support. "Now, Miss Redfield, are you going to come with me willingly?"

The younger Redfield glared daggers at him. "No."

"Pity," Wesker said flatly.

Claire awoke in a cell...

Figures... Claire thought to herself.

She knew why Wesker took her... she knew that he would no doubt use her as some kind of leverage to get Chris running to save her. When he should come... Wesker wasn't going to hold back this time, he would kill Chris.

Claire brushed those thoughts away and studied her new 'home'. It was small and windowless, one door that was tightly locked and secured with a code pad. There was a small extention to the room that was the bathroom. Just a toilet, shower and sink. The matress she was laying on was in the far corner of the room and covered with a black sheet. No pillow. The walls were a dull gray and the room itself was dark.

She didn't know what time it was or how long she had been knocked out. The last thing she remembered was Wesker bashing her in the back of the head.

The large metal door creaked open and a sharp sliver of light flooded the room. Claire covered her eyes, for she was not used to the outside light. She squinted, trying to focus on who stepped in. The light gave the man a sillohet until he slammed the door shut behind him.

Claire notcied it was Wesker.

She shook her head and turned away from him. Making his way to her makeshift bed, he dropped a paper bag beside it and a few books.

"Keep yourself busy, Miss Redfield. We don't want you dying of bordome now do we?" Wesker said smugly.

"Why do you care if I die or not?" Claire spat. "If you're going to kill me, then do it already you coward!"

The next thing she knew, she was being lifted up off the ground, and being held by her throat once again.

"Don't insult me, Miss Redfield. It's very unwise. And if I had any intentions of killing you, you would have been dead a long time ago."

Claire grabbed his wrists, trying to pry him off. "Let go... of me," She choked.

"Don't make the same mistake twice. For next time, I won't be so generous." Wesker dropped her back onto the matress and she gasped for breath. Wesker left the room, slamming the door like a tempered child.

Claire reached for the paper bag, rubbing her neck with her other hand. She dug through the contents, pulling out two fast food hamburgers and a water bottle, along with two asprin pills. She popped the asprin to relive her horrid headache and unwrapped a burger.

While she sat against the wall eating, the stack of books he had brought her caught her interest. The first was The Lovley Bones, one of Claire's favorites, the next was a collection of Shakespear that she was familiar with. Claire's college English class consisted of nothing more than William Shakespear and Steven King. The last two books were Fever 1793 and one of Montague Summers Mythology pieces.

Claire flipped through the pages in Summers book, skimming through the Vamparism notes, oral passages on Dragons and the next chapter caught her eye.

Lycanthropes.

"Werewolves?" Claire muttered to herself. She peered at a paragraph that had not only grabbed her attention, it looked quite iteresting when the words sought her eyes.

-In vain he attempted to speak; from that very instant, his jaws were beslputtered with foam, and he only thristed for blood, as he raged against flocks and panted for slaughter. A wolf; he retains yet a large trace of his ancient expression. His eyes glitter savagley still, the picture of fury.

Claire laughed dryly to herself, the passage sounded like Wesker in more ways than one.

Claire drummed her fingers on the book and the thick Shakespear collection fell over from its spine sitting position.

It made Claire jump a tad and it fell open to a bookmarked page. There was a red, fine tip pen resting in between two pages. There was also a note pad jammed five pages down. Claire thought that the pen a note pad would be some form of entertainment other than the books. She flipped through the page and found a small list scrawled in neat, all capatalized handwriting. She assumed it was Wesker's because the list had the collection of books he had brought along with a footnote that read 'asprin'.

Claire chuckled a bit and never thought of Wesker of a man that would forget anything. Making a list was very unexpected of him.

She decided to eat the other fast food burger before it got too cold. She eyed the pen and paper pad and snatched them up. Claire had always had a passion for drawing, but she knew that her moderate skills would get her nowhere without proper training, and she didn't have the time or money to go to art school.

Her favorite thing to draw were portaits; she was always quite fantastic at them. She would constantly sketch when she was bored, mostly sketching Leon's profile, but she could never get his hair and nose right so in the end, she would give up and toss it aside.

Claire just started to sketch away until a handsome and defined male face came about. She added the hair, slicked back with the utmost perfection. Eyes were next, but she was stuck on them... Claire almost slapped herself when her drawing resembled Wesker.

Very greatly.

Only once she had seen what lies behind those sunglasses. The demonic hues, red like boiled blood. She decided to wing it and continue with her drawing, satisfied with the way his arch-feind eyes came out. The nose was the part she always failed at... either they came out too small or too pointy. But for some reason, Wesker's nose came out looking like it should. Defined and chiseled, pointy to say the least. She gave him ears that turned out like they usually did, perfect. His mouth was last and Claire had a hard time sketching it down. She hadn't got a good look at Wesker, ever. She was doing this based on memory and little snapshots of him in her head. Once the mouth was done, the picture was a spitting image of him. Claire shuttered and asked herself why in the hell she continued to draw him. She added texture with hard set cheekbones and the crease in between the nose and upper lip.

Tossing the pad across the room in a fury of anger, Claire stood up a stormed over to the door. She banged on it with her fists, a dull echo filling her cell.

"Let me outt here, Wesker! Or you'll regret it!" Claire continued to pound on the door, but she didn't notice when it came free and swung open. She fell forward but a pair of steel arms caught her from falling on her face.

Wesker propped her up and still had his arms around her skinny waist. Claire squirmed out of his grasp and back away from him.

"Just let me go... please! If you don't, Chris is gonna kill you and I'll sit there and watch!"

Wesker just shook his head and chuckled low in his throat. "Don't make empy threats, Dearheart," he told her smugly, smirking at her evily.

"It wasn't an EMPTY threat, Wesker. Chris will prevail someday and when he does, they'll be dancing on your grave. That is if you even get one..."

Wesker was in front of her in less then a second, spinning her around and pressing her against the door. "I can assure you, Dearheart, I'll be the one dancing on a grave. Your brothers. And maybe yours."

"You wouldn't..." Claire whispered sharply.

"Try me," he warned.

Claire brought up her arm and slapped him clean across his face, Wesker didn't flinch. She bolted from his grasp, heading down the hallway running as fast as her tired legs would carry her.

Wesker smiled sadistically and cracked his neck.

"Alright, Claire. You wish to play cat and mouse, then so be it."


	2. Run From Me

**Disclaimer: I don NOT own RE.**

**I think that the 'kidnapping' turned out well enough seeing that I've never really kidnapped anyone in my stories. :p**

Claire was running as fast as her legs would carry her. Her vision was clouded with tears and her breathing was harsh. She was running endlessly after she had struck Wesker in the face, she was terrified to face him because Claire didn't feel like dying today. She took a sharp right turn into a doorway. The room was dark and shrouded with black and Claire couldn't see shit. She felt around uselessly in the dark for something to defend herself with. A thick stretch of _something _knocked her in the gut and she double over onto a carpeted floor that gained a grunt from her. Now lying on her side, clutching her stomach, Claire took a deep breath and sat up against the very object that had clothes- lined her. She ran her hand over in and felt creases in two parts, she also deducted that whatever it was, was leather.

_Fuck me it's a couch! _

Claire mentally shouted at herself for being so skittish. Her eyes strained in the dark, still unable to see her surroundings. She heard low, grumbling thunder in the distance, and she wondered where she was now that she had an idea from the weather conditions. There was a streak of lightning and it illuminated the room to reveal nothing more than a standard living room. She saw the couch, two arm chairs, a coffee table and a fire place. The room was submerged in the black again and Claire made her way to the fireplace while thinking about stabbing Wesker in the face with a fire poker. She felt around for the poker when her knees hit the brick surrounding the fireplace. She held her tongue, not wanting Wesker to find her and she bit back the pain that was shooting up her legs.

There was no freaking fire poker.

Claire's mind raced about trying to think of a new idea when another bolt of lightning lit up the room. She shot her head up to see a hunting rifle mounted above the mantle. She stood up to grab it just when the lightning faded out.

"Shit…"

She waited until another streak… none came. She was getting nervous now. What if Wesker found her before she could get that rifle? A blue flash of lightning engulfed the room and Claire spun around.

She jumped a good three feet in the air when she turned around to see a _huge _stuffed grizzly bear no more than two feet away from her. She was frozen as she sized the bear up, looking at its gaping maw and four inch, razor-like claws. Claire whipped around and grabbed the gun from the plaque and held it to her chest tightly. She aimed it at the doorway and would wait until Wesker walked through. Her palms were sweaty and she was shaking, it was nerve wracking…

XXXXX

Wesker kept still as he sniffed the air like a wolf on the hunt. He smiled evilly when he picked up her scent, something like cinnamon and oranges mixed together. He continued down the dimly lit hallways of his lab/house. It was both so-to-speak.

He followed her intoxicating scent into his living the room that was pitch dark, though it really didn't matter in Wesker's case, he could see in the dark as easily as he could during the day.

"Where are you, Dearheart?" He called through the room. "I hope you know that you can't hide from me. I'm much smarter than you think."

He scanned dark room and noticed that the one-hundred-year-old hunting rifle was missing from its perch above the fireplace. The grizzly bear was out of place as well… it looked as if someone moved it aside and he could smell her… right there.

"Dearheart, you can come out now," Wesker taunted her. "I know where you're hiding."

Claire stepped out from behind the bear, rifle pointed at his head, hands shaking. She and Wesker circled each other, neither of them making the first move. Wesker seemed to be the more patient one as Claire ran at him and bashed his jaw with the butt of the gun.

"That hurt," Wesker said calmly, holding his jaw.

"Good!" Claire spat.

He looked up at her and regained his posture, standing up straight, right in front of her menacingly. She raised the gun again and her trigger finger was ready. She was used to firing guns but she didn't know what the outcome would be. She pulled the trigger and heard the gun click. She lowered it and her heart stopped… the damn thing was empty.

"You know, I took the bullets out of that years ago, Miss Redfield."

It was then he lunged at her but Claire was quicker and threw the rifle at him to slow him down. He caught it and snapped it in two over his knee like a flimsy tree branch.  
Claire made it to the door but slammed right into Wesker who was in front of her in an instant. He grabbed her wrist as she was about to punch him and grabbed the other when she attempted again. He started to apply pressure to both of her wrists and gained a sharp cry of pain from her and he smirked in pure satisfaction. He liked seeing her in pain; it brought him the pleasure of knowing he could hurt a Redfield, whether it was Chris or Claire.

She tried to rear back and kick him but he swung her around and pinned her against the wall, arms twisted back harshly and his body pressed up against hers.

"Did you really believe that you could steal something from me and get away with it?" Wesker asked her, mouth next to her ear. "Well? Do you?"

"Yes, yes I though I could," Claire responded, writhing against him. "You have it back now so let me go, you bastard!"

"That was stupid. No one, not even _you,_" He twisted her arms back further, gaining a whimper of pain from her. "Gets away with stealing from _me_" again, he upped the pain to her arms, and she yelled out. Just a bit more and he could snap them in half like twigs if he wanted to. "Tell me, Miss Redfield, what were you planning on doing with it anyway?"

"I was going to do the right thing," Claire snapped at him. He chuckled and whispered into her ear:

"Dearheart, there is no such thing as 'doing the right thing' anymore. Don't you know that it's a dog eat dog world? I thought you knew better. There is no one you can rely on when it comes to the last T-virus sample, the _rarest _sample at that. So what were you expecting you'd get for turning it in? A hardy reward in cash? Please, think smaller. They would interrogate you to no ends asking you where you came upon it. They would deny every word and warp them against you. There is no one that can safely own the virus… not even I."

"Then why do you care where it ends up?" Claire asked.

"Oh trust me; there are worse souls out there than me."

"I don't believe you," Claire said flatly.

Wesker only chuckled at this and released her arms, and started to drag her down the hallway by her hair.

Claire cried out in painful protest but it was ignored. He was dragging her down the opposite end of the corridor; he wasn't brining her back to her room. She tried to pry his hands from her hair and kick her way out of his grasp but to no avail.

"Where are you taking me, you bastard?"

"You'll see, Dearheart. You'll see."

**A/N: Sorry that this one was so short, I'm working on other stuff right now and this is the third most important thing on my list :D Soon though, it will get interesting ;)**


	3. Paper Thin

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Sorry this is so late, I just started my sequel to The Day That Never Comes so that was pretty hectic. Enjoy the third chapter to my newest hit, Breathless.**

I was convinced that I was bleeding from my scalp as Wesker dragged me by my hair through a labyrinth of corridors. I hadn't an idea to where he was taking me, I assumed that he would throw me into some solitude, not that my 'room' was any different. I thought on it while wincing from the pain, Wesker's vice grip was as painful as it could get and I wanted to kick him in the ass for being so violent.

It was true; I had stolen something from him a few months ago. I was surprised that it took him this long to find out that I had it in my possession. The last person he would suspect was me, for Christ sake I've been kidnapped by the crazy fuck more than once, maimed by him and emotionally plagued by his shadow. It was my choice to break into his lab in Prague and steal, mind you, the _rarest _T-Virus sample. There had never been a sample quite like it, and unlike a regular T-Virus sample that could infect a town's entire population in days… the T-Virus/AW was Wesker's little experiment that resulted in a single strand of the altered T-Virus. One _drop _could infect a town's population in minutes. It would mutate every victim into a horrid Tyrant-like creature. Not a zombie. The Tyrants were much, _much _worse.

It was literally the T-Virus on steroids.

When the dragging had come to a stop, I looked up and Wesker released my hair. I stood a decent ten feet away from him as he gazed into an enclosed room with a man sitting in to corner. Wesker proceeded to unlock the steel door and waited for the computer to recognize the access code. The door unlocked with a loud click that made me flinch, and Wesker made his way into the room and towards the man in the corner. He bent over and grabbed the man by his hair and effortlessly lifted him up to stand, injecting something into his neck. The man fell limply back onto the ground and Wesker wiped some blood from the man's face off of his shirt. He re-entered the corridor and locked the door with a pass code.

"What did you do him…?" I asked softly.

"Have you ever seen what the T-Virus/AW can do, Miss Redfield?"

I shook my head slightly, "No…" I said. "Do I want to?"

Wesker didn't respond to my question, god I hated that. He seemed transfixed on the man, like he wanted the pain to come a little quicker, like he _knew _what the outcome would be. And then… it happened.

The man lurched forward from his now standing position and threw up bile and blood onto the white floor. I could clearly hear his bones snap into a different form, altering the way his spine aligned his body, permanently bending him over. He started painfully growing in a guttural sounding cry. His arms extended as well as his legs, his fingernails fell off and out burst a fury of razor sharp claws, his skin tone changed to a light red and the hair on his head began to fall in tufts to the ground. The claws on his right hand extended and the man cried out in pain. The claws were now a good two feet long and were dripping with his blood. His shirt then ripped open down the spine and razors protruded from his skin there, the crude tail came next and resembled a crocodile's. He opened his jaws to scream but the human canines elongated to resemble dog fangs and his face outstretched into a dog-looking snout. This transformation certainly looked like something out of a horror movie and it sickened me. The monster flung himself on clawed paws at the reinforced glass, slamming into it and cracking his skull. Though the major damage dealt to his head, the skin started to regenerate and heal itself back up. In seconds, the large gash in the skull was gone, not even a scar remained. The mutation was hideous and I never thought anything like this was humanly possible; it _was _like a B monster movie with the creature created by accident.

Though we both knew that this was none.

"Magnificent," Wesker said calmly. "Don't you think?"

"I think that this is absolutely _disgusting_. How can you go through with something like this? It's like killing a baby! Or a puppy! Jesus Christ, Wesker! Get a hobby! Is that all you're capable of! Killing people! I thought you were better than that! I never saw you as an evil person, Wesker, I won't lie. But good _god! _Is there any form of passion in that heart of yours? Is there a man buried deep in your soul somewhere? Oh! Do you even have a soul!" I stood there facing him, fist clenched and ready to hit him _so _hard. I had just spilled out my hate for him, and yes, I didn't think Wesker was an evil person. I always saw him misunderstood, mislead perhaps. Not evil. That was over exaggerating. He looked at me, though I could not determine the emotion behind those damned sunglasses. He didn't throw me up against a wall or break my leg out of fury. He just stood there, looking at me through his shades. I was starting to grow impatient as I waited for him to say something.

"Dearheart," He started. "I never would have thought that you think so low of me." He leaned up against the wall and faced the one across from us. "I never wanted you to hate me… I never intended to gain that feeling from you. I don't have a counter argument for what you just said because this time, it's not an empty lie. What you said… that's all me. I can't fix myself _by _myself, and I can't go to anyone to do it for me because no one wants to help me. It is your right to be angry, I do not blame you. I didn't bring you here because I need a form of leverage against your brother. I'm actually starting to forget why I continue to keep you. There is no point anymore. I got back what I wanted."

"But it's much more complicated than that… isn't it?" I asked him softly.

He only nodded and turned around to face me. He extended his arm and held his hand in front of me. I wasn't sure what to do at this moment. I felt like I would be doing something totally wrong if I took his hand, though at the same time I felt as if things would turn out ok.

So I took it.

He pulled me gently to him and started to lead me down the halls again, this time much gentler than the last. I didn't snag my hand away from his when we reached the room I was staying in, it continued to rest in his. He entered the code onto the door and it unlocked with a click. Wesker swung it open and slipped his hand from mine, extending his arm to emphasize entry into the room. I carefully stepped past him and into the threshold of the door. I stood there staring at him and him back at me. I didn't know what to say and I think that for once in his life, he was also speechless.

"Goodnight," I whispered softly.

He leaned into the doorway and kissed my temple. "Goodnight, Claire." The room was engulfed in darkness once he had shut the door. I ran my fingers across my temple where the skin prickled with warmth.

_Claire… _I thought to myself. "He called me Claire."

**A/N: Shivers! Where will this slight, maybe-its-not-there-but-they-can't-know-for-sure-affection? Tune in for the next chapter! **


	4. Perplex

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RE**

**Again… late. FML! SO BUSY!**

I wasn't sure how many days had passed since my last encounter with Wesker. Maybe it wasn't days, for all I knew; it could have been only a few hours. He had never shone affection like that towards me. And I wouldn't call crushing my shoulder into the ground with his boot affection!

Still, this could be another one of his plans. A test to see how much I could give in. But I wouldn't break. Hell no I wouldn't.

He was strong as well and maybe he was testing himself. Maybe he wanted to push himself over the edge a bit just to see if he would fall or not. I wasn't here to wait around for another one of his snaps either and I most certainly wasn't going to listen to him say 'jump' and I say 'how high'.

I didn't have time to mull over a plan, I had none. I didn't have time to think about why he had kissed me on the temple. I didn't care.

If Wesker wanted to show me something, well he had a funny way of doing it.

Sometimes that man drives me fucking crazy. No wait, he _always _drove me crazy! He couldn't stand a day without picking on someone. He couldn't stand _life _without being a renegade jackass who sought pleasure in harming those who were weaker than him. I think life would be hell if he didn't have someone to feel pain from his touch or his very _presence._

I certainly did.

I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn't afraid of him. 

I was terrified of that man.

I knew what he was capable of; I knew just how far he would go just to see a Redfield scream. He was a determined kind of guy that didn't give up when advised; he didn't let anything go to waste, and most certainly didn't let anything get in his way. There was never a wall high enough to stop him because he would just knock it over with brute force. He was also the conniving type, the type that would lie in wait for his prey to come to him. And if he had to wait too long, he would go out of his way to do it himself, and he never lost that fight.

Come to think of it… it was actually kind of sexy.

_Oh what am I thinking? This is Wesker here! He tried to kill me! For Christ sake, Claire… get a hold of yourself! _Now that I think about it… Wesker was quite handsome. I always thought he was. I met him back when S.T.A.R.S. was still operational and had seen him several times when Chris was working for him.

I did recall those sunglasses placed on the bridge of his perfect nose, and the striking, almost cold blue eyes that resided under them. They reminded me of hell frozen over; blue with a hint of icy sternness that only a Captain of his stature should posses.

They were now nothing that I had remembered.

Arch-fiend red, with amber swirls. I noticed that whenever he was angry, the amber would fade into a deep orange that accented the hellish red. His cat-like slits like a devilish panther and the wicked smile that came with them.

Wolfish, his two pointed canines shined when he grinned evilly. He _was _like a wolf when he smiled. Eyes like the reddest of blood, teeth like the sharpest of steel.

He was absolutely frightening.

He was like the wicked madman from the child's storybook. Or the evil king that wanted the beautiful princess.

I had never met a man so domineering, a man so dedicated. It was almost like he would work himself to death if that's what it would take to finish what he had started. I wondered where I was in this puzzle of his, he was clearly confused about his situation and maybe he would let me go, after all, he had gotten back what I stole from him only to have a special surprise in the box.

Me.

I had no time to mull over why, but I needed to know. Why would he show that one flint of emotion towards me?

I always thought there was none in that devil-like soul of his but now I was starting to question my very accusation.

Albert Wesker, and now I knew for sure, still held on to his humanity by a thread.

**A/N: Now she knows! How far will she go to get answers out of Wesker without pushing him over the edge? **


	5. Torment

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So the last chapter was all for Claire ranting about Wesker. Now I've decided to let Wesker get a chance to think about Claire. **

That blasted girl. She needed to stay out of my mind. I knew she was trying to get somewhere with me… maybe she was testing me. She probably thought the same. Claire was nothing more than a thorn in my side just like her wretched brother, they both needed to die but for some reason, I could not bring myself to put my fingers around her neck and squeeze. There was something stopping me… last night I visited her, I wanted her dead, no more would I have to worry and I could move on. But as soon as I touched her skin, I froze. I couldn't tell myself to choke the life right out of her.

I wouldn't let me.

She was a nuisance that I didn't need… I got back what I wanted but why was I still keeping her here against her will? Why was I so eager to see her sometimes? And why couldn't I forget her smell?

Strawberries.

It masked her fear even though I wanted to smell it when I got too close. It masked her pain when I knew I was causing it. I was sitting here thinking about that smell, like mixed berries and a hint of cinnamon. It was truly intoxicating. It was almost better than the smell of blood spilled onto the floor from a helpless victim of my bloodlust. That smell made my mouth water and Goosebumps prickle my skin. However, Claire's smell made me dizzy, it made my fists clench, and my head spin. My heart rate would hammer and my fingers would itch to pin her to a wall and kill her.

I wanted this… this feeling to go away! To leave me the hell alone. It seemed it wouldn't relent until I solved the very problem Claire was causing…

I had two choices.

Let Claire live and send her away so I would not have to deal with her bickering, vulgar language, and her very presence.

Or let her stay… test her. See how far I could push her without making her go mad. Leave her to fight against me, and leave her to pit herself against the fear that I imposed on her, the heart stopping feeling I inflicted into her very core. I knew she was afraid of me, I could see it in her oceanic blue eyes. I could hear her pulse race in my ears.

_Or you could just kill her…_ I told myself.

Yes… yes, I could kill her. And that would save me some time. Why in the world would I waste my precious time with someone like Claire Redfield? Why would I spend it tormenting her… tormenting her…?

"Torment," I whispered to myself.

**A/N: Wesker, you better be nice to Claire!**


	6. Murder On His Mind

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

Wesker walked through the hallways making his way to Claire's 'room'. He had decided to crush her windpipe so he could get rid of this horrid feeling he had in his chest. It was almost like a minor heartburn mixed with a lofty feeling of something sublime.

He stood in front of her door and decided not to take his time to knock. He kicked the steel door in, throwing it off its hinges. Claire yelped in surprise, she was leaning up against a wall, reading a book.

"What the hell, Wesker?"

He didn't waste time with the greeting and was in front of her in an instant, he smashed her up against a wall, gaining a painful cry from her that made him smirk wickedly. She dropped onto the floor, trying to scamper away from him but he landed a harsh kick in her gut that made her gag.

"Wesker! What the hell has gotten into you?" He bent down and picked her up by her throat, the usual, and he ripped his sunglasses off, staring at her with the utmost hate in his demon eyes.

She was slowly choking in his grasp, trying to gulp in as much air as he would allow. She swung out to kick him in the chest but he didn't move an inch. He was rooted in his spot and applying more and more force the more she struggled. Claire's vision faded and a gray mist rolled in around her vision.

He was going to choke her to death.

"I do apologize for not being as quick but I want to watch you suffer," Wesker lifted his free hand back, ready to impale her with it. "Goodbye, Miss Redfield."

Claire closed her eyes, waiting for the most painful pain she would feel and then the death that came with it.

_This is it…_ Claire thought. "I'm so sorry… Chris." At that moment, Wesker growled and threw her across the room. She gasped for breath, taking in as much air as she could without choking on herself.

"Do _not _mention his name!" Wesker yelled, his eyes swirling a violent red. "I'm tired of hearing _that _name. It drives me absolutely insane!" He reeled around and jammed his fist into the wall, crushing it and leaving a gaping hole. In the midst of his fury, Claire made a break for the door; she made it to the end of her room which seemed much larger than she remembered. Just as she made it through the threshold, Wesker down on the floor on his belly and had her by her ankle, dragging her back to hell.

She used her other foot to smash his face, hearing a satisfying snap and he released her with an angry, animalistic growl. She scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as her legs would carry her down the endless array of hallways.

Wesker rubbed his sore jaw and snapped it back into place, unfazed by the twinge of pain that subsided into a dull ache. Wesker made another throaty growl like a wolf that had just been beaten. He slammed his fist into the wall again, unsure about this rage that fueled him. "Claire!" Wesker bellowed her name and it carried throughout the hallways.

Meanwhile…

Claire heard her name being roared by him… she was too afraid to turn back and see if he was there, she just kept running. She had turned left, right and right again only to find that the labyrinth was never ending. She sprinted past lab orderlies that only gave her a confused look and a backwards glance as to where she was headed and why.

She saw doors.

Maybe doors that led to the outside where she could run for her fucking life even more.

"Claire!"

She heard it again, this time… much more angry.

Whatever Wesker was on was not good. He had been kind to her just the other day yet, he was a moody kind of guy. He wanted to kill her and he wasn't going to stop until he succeeded in what he wanted.

She burst through the double doors only to be in another room, this one was enclosed.

She stopped to catch her breath and leaned up against a wall, looking up at the ceiling and winced when she felt pain in her legs but mostly her arms.

_Odd…_

A sudden smell assaulted her nose and it wasn't pleasant. It smelled like rotting flesh, decay that she had smelt in Raccoon.

Claire looked and her eyes were drawn to two large Cerberus that were eyeing her with their dead whites.

"Shit…"

Claire turned around and banged on the door and the large window that was there. The dogs slowly rose from her spot and licked their bloody chops.

Fresh meat.

She saw Wesker on the other side of the window, looking at her with that blank expression and his red eyes. He had his arms folded behind his back, lips tight with anger and he was breathing quite heavily, veins taut in his neck.

"Wesker! You let me out of here right now or so help me god…"

_I could just let them kill her… but where would the fun be in that? _

The dogs leapt for Claire, snarling horridly, and she closed her eyes, ready for her _real _death.

Again, when the pain did not come she fluttered her eyes open only to see Wesker snapping the jaws of one and then smashing another one's skull with his boot.

He turned to face her and extended his arm.

Claire didn't know why but she took his bloody hand. She felt numb when their skin touched and her heart went cold.

He led her to wherever he desired and Claire had no say in it.

_You failed, Albert… You just can't bring yourself to do it, admit it… _Wesker shook his head, it going unnoticed by an incoherent Claire.

**A/N: Again we see that Wesker has a hard time killing Claire! What will he do next?**


	7. Cave In

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

Claire had followed Wesker through the hallways she was just running through only moments ago. Why she had accepted his curt hand was beyond her. Her mind reeled about, escape on her brain. Right now the chances of that seemed very slim, in fact, it would be downright foolish to try and escape now.

Claire realized that a large cut on her shoulder had been bleeding all over her, a cut from something. She tried to place her finger on how it happened but was stopped when they reached a door and Wesker proceeded to unlock it.

He led her into the room and it turned out to be a bedroom. He sat her down on the bed and went into the extension bathroom, she heard the sink running and cabinets opening. He came back with a first aid box and a bowl with warm water and a washcloth.

He sat beside her, rolling up her sleeve and Claire winced from the pain but did not recoil from his touch like she would have.

"Let me clean that up for you," He said quietly, washing away the blood that dripped from her pale skin.

"Why did you save me, Wesker?"

He pulled surgical thread from the first aid box and a needle. "I don't know."

Claire wasn't satisfied with the answer but she wasn't going to get much more with force, she would allow him to be the way he was, just this moment. He wiped the crimson blood from her wound, gaining a wince from her.

"Hold still," He commanded. Wesker got up and stalked over to the side table drawer. He removed a switchblade and a silver Zippo lighter.

"What are you doing with that?" Claire asked nervously, eyeing the tools.

"I have to disinfect the wound… or this will turn out to be much more painful." He sat down again and flipped open the lighter. He flicked the knife out and held it against the flame, heating the sterling silver.

Claire looked down at the floor as Wesker heated the blade.

"This is going to hurt but only momentarily, Dearheart." Claire clutched his black button down shirt in her fists and closed her eyes. Wesker pressed the knife against her wound and Claire let out a sharp cry, squeezing his shirt fiercely. Tears stung her eyes and she let them free as he circled the blade around the mangled skin.

"Shhh…" He cooed. "I know it hurts but I'm almost done."

Claire let her head fall onto his shoulder, still balling her fists in his shirt. He was done disinfecting her cut and then threaded the surgical needle, rubbing the wound with the warm washcloth. He pierced her flesh and gained a small whimper from her while he moved it through the skin, closing it up.

_Why am I doing this for her? What happened to killing the wretched girl and then getting on with your life?_

"Wesker…" Claire whimpered and gripped the back of his neck with her other hand, clutching his blonde hair tightly.

"There," He stated. "All done."

Claire detangled herself from him and bore her eyes into his. The fire that engulfed her was sending shivers down her spine, and Claire could have _sworn _she saw a flint of blue in the ocean of blood that were Albert Wesker's eyes.

"Thank you…"

"You're welcome, Claire."

Her eyes again fell to the floor, staring at his shoes. She felt his fingers under her chin, gently lifting her face to look at him. Claire reached out and ghosted her fingers down his cheek, feeling the slight shadow of a beard there. He made a deep, throaty growl, almost like a purr when her hand reached his neck. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she seemed to notice Wesker leaning towards her and to her surprise, she was also. Her eyes avoided his and instead searched his handsome face, trying her hardest not to make eye-contact with him.

Their lips touched and Claire's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she whimpered softly.

Their breath coming through nostrils, Claire's hands roaming the plains of his chiseled chest, Wesker wrapping his hand at the nape of her neck, and uses his other to run his fingers through her hair.

Claire fell back onto the bed, now kissing his neck, his hands running up her arms.

"Claire…"

Wesker pulled away from her and moved to the side of the bed, sitting up, rubbing his face in his hands.

"Wesker, what's wrong?" He turned to face her, and caressed her cheek.

"That," He said quietly. "You are you and I am me. I can't get rid of this _blasted _feeling. I've never felt like this before, Claire. You, your very presence sends me spiraling. I can't focus on anything but you and when I see you I get enraged yet, happy. I don't know what's going on."

"Same here…" Claire confessed. "You're like a machine and I find you utterly intriguing. I… I'm afraid of you but at the same time, I want to feel that fear."

Wesker crawled back into the bed, pulling Claire into his chest, holding her face in between his hands, running his thumb over the lost tear. "I can prove it to you, Dearheart."

"Prove what?"

"That I can still be… affectionate."

Claire smiled and kissed his nose, "Deal."

**A/N: AWWWW! FIRST KISS!**


	8. Afraid Of Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

Wesker was crazy.

I knew that. I was aware of it so long ago. He was crazy for world power, crazy for blood… crazy for me. Who would have though? Me, Claire Redfield, the sister of this man's enemy, to be lying here with him, watching his chest rise and fall, listening to his rhythmic heartbeats. It was hard to comprehend; I was supposed to hate Wesker, not _like _him. He was supposed to want me dead, not want me wrapped in his arms.

Polar opposites.

But opposites attract I guess.

I didn't make sense; Wesker was no more than a heartless bastard who wanted nothing more than world power. He had the biggest God complex I had ever come to witness, he was a renegade jackass who sought pleasure in those who were weaker than him. The humans. I was a human, but he didn't see me as one. He saw me as someone he could potentially _like. _It wasn't him to let things happen so quickly but I suppose that I had stolen something from him when he was in a good mood.

But how in the hell would this work? I was human and Wesker was… well, Wesker! He wasn't going to change for me even though he said he would try. I almost felt hurt because it felt like a huge ass lie. Maybe it wasn't maybe, just for once to please someone, Wesker was telling the all honest truth and he would go through trying to be civilized for a woman. (Not that he ever hadn't).

As for him, I never considered Wesker evil. I couldn't even say his name and that word in the same sentence without grimacing because it didn't sound right. Yeah, he was frightening, and he was dark, but he was still somewhat _human _even though he hated that word as much as he hated my brother. I saw potential in him even though he may have already reached that. I saw something in him that many people would die trying to witness, or _have _died because they did know. Either way, Wesker was still humane even if he hung on by threads of it. He could be fixed but he chose not to. He could find help, but then that would ruin the whole fact that he _didn't need _anyone's help.

I was stuck in his little mess that was about to take a turn for the worse.

The overwhelming facts were crushing me; I thought I might suffocate if I had to deal with more of it.

I cried.

I smothered my face in a pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of my sobs. Wesker clearly heard it for he tossed around to face me with a grunt. I felt his fingers run down my arms and pull me from the pillow to face him. His hair was tussled from sleep, red eyes soft and groggy looking. His bare chest caught by the moonlight that floated through the room.

"What's wrong, Claire?"

"Nothing…" I whispered.

"Liar," Wesker remarked flatly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't understand why this is happening. You are you and I am me. I can't bring myself to believe that this is real even though I know it is. I want to deny it but at the same time I feel like I'll be throwing something good away."

Wesker rubbed his strong jaw, scratching at his scruffy minimal beard. "You don't have to understand."

I shook my head, "What?"

"Claire," he chuckled. "You know this is real but you don't want to believe it, right?"

"Yeah…"

"You're too funny, Dearheart."

"Wesker, I don't get what's funny. I see no humor in this!"

"If you think about it, you want this to be real. Well, it is. You feel as if you are throwing something good away. Well, you did."

I didn't understand. What good thing did _I _throw away?

I asked him.

"You threw away your fear."

"Fear is a good thing?"

"Fear is something that all of us have and sometimes even require. Even I. You threw that away because, lets be honest, Claire, you're not afraid of me anymore."

"I don't have to be."

Wesker leaned into me, kissing me on the lips and smiled sadistically. "You should be."

**A/N: Sorry that this is so short, I'm working on a new chapter to ATTWN. **


	9. Rock And A Hard Place

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

**Sorry for such a long wait I have such a lack of interest at the moment… writers block has plagued this story awfully.**

Chris sat at his deck, rolling a pen across the wood while gripping a picture of Claire tightly.

She's been missing for a good two months now… no whereabouts of where she could be, who has her, and the condition she might be in. Though Chris had a very bad idea to who had her prisoner.

Albert Wesker.

Who better suitable for leverage against him? Wesker knew that as soon as he held Claire in his icy grip Chris would come running. It was no doubt that this time, like all the other times, Wesker had know what he was doing and known what he'd be getting himself into. Claire was perfect bait and Wesker knew how to make a Redfield squirm.

He slammed the picture of Claire onto the desk just as Jill and Leon walked in from the front door.

"Chris you're making a mess," Jill pointed out.

"Sorry, guys… I'm just worried about Claire. We know, well, at least I know, who has her."

"You don't have to elaborate," Leon chimed. "All of us have the same idea as to who kidnapped her."

"Wesker…" Chris seethed.

"Do we even have a place to start?" Jill asked.

Leon shook his head. "No, this time Wesker didn't leave a thing behind. Usually he uses a mocking ransomed note but not this time. He left no trace at Claire's place, or even here if he had shone up."

"The only thing I can say is that he's secluded. Somewhere no one would suspect and somewhere Claire couldn't figure out. He's obviously keeping her under the mat because by now he at least let her call me…"

Jill faltered… she knew what kind of trouble Claire was in. She was at that mission in Prague with her. Claire had escaped the base with the samples… Jill kept it a hard secret between her and Claire. Chris had no idea as to where she was during that time. He figured she was working not stealing shit from Wesker. She would most likely ensure her safety if she told him. Yet, it would also compromise the fact that Wesker could be watching and monitoring their every move. She didn't know that for sure but knowing Wesker it was likely he had planted _something _in this house. Jill also knew that Wesker had kidnapped Claire because; A) she was the sister of his worst enemy. B) She was perfect leverage against Chris and the others. And C) She had his samples and nothing was stopping him from getting them back.

She was sure Claire still had them.

But why would Wesker still have _her_?

It didn't make any sense. Wesker was a conniving, calculating type who was always impossible to read. Yet he had a darker side. He always did. He was a murderer who cared little about anyone else but himself. That was that. Wesker didn't need anybody yet he needed _somebody_ to tell him how great he was other than himself. Jill was sure that's why he was keeping Claire around.

He was using her and she was blind to it.

Right now she could be locked in a cell with no food or water.

Or she could be in a bed.

With Wesker.

He was like that; he was one who could twist a persons mind until they were completely oblivious to what they were doing and why they had done it. And Jill had an awful feeling that he had done it to Claire.

Now only time would tell.

XXXXX

Wesker typed away on his laptop, sitting on the living room couch with Claire right beside him. He could really care less as to Claire snooping while he worked near her. If he did, well, that would defeat the purpose of hiding it when she was near. The things that he worked on when she was around were merely reports that dealt with little to nothing.

"Wesker?" Claire asked.

"Hm?"

"Where are we?"

Wesker stopped typing and looked up at her and she could see her reflection in his shades.

"Why?" He questioned casually.

Claire shrugged. "Because I think it's about time I know. I mean, we're on friendly terms right?"

"Miss Redfield, I never appointed you to being my 'friend.'" He strained the last word of his sentence like it was sour poison.

Claire slammed his laptop shut, anger seething through her and she shot up to look down on him. "Then what are we, Wesker?"

He let out a sharp sigh and stood inches away from her. "We're still enemies, Miss Redfield. Your brother and I will always be and as long as you remain his sister… you shall too."

"I'll always be Chris' sister, Wesker. And that's something you can't take away from me."

"Then we will be forever bound as enemies."

"Fine," Claire snapped. "I still don't get you, Wesker."

"You don't need to," he stated calmly… almost sadly.

"But I-" She trailed off. "But I want to."

He supped her cheek in his gloved hand and she rested upon it while he moved a stray lock of hair from her face. "You don't want to, Claire."

"It can't be that bad…"

"But it is."

His hand moved down to grip her chin softly and he leaned in, placing a kiss upon her lips. "I was born in Germany and I spent five years living there until my father was called to America for business."

He sat down and Claire regained her spot next to him.

"When we arrived in America we were settled in all thanks to Umbrella, the company my father worked for. My mother had to find a new job, something that she could manage so she could also watch her five year old son. Vera, my mother, had a hard time adapting to the new country. Things were different; she realized that we, although my father was a prestigious Umbrella researcher, were still underprivileged immigrants. She was also a woman therefore, back then, she wasn't paid as much as a man. My father on the other hand, Nicholas, he was swimming in money, power, and more than likely women. He was young and reckless… nothing stopped him from sleeping with other women, not even the thought of my mother. Until she died…"

Claire gasped ever so slightly. She was stricken with sadness that welled within her heart, pity for the Might Albert Wesker.

"She was murdered on her way from work. The nightshift. The babysitter left to find help and try and contact my father. He never answered. I grew up being blamed for her death. From age five to the day I moved out at sixteen. Nicholas became a drunken monkey who threatened every night to blow my head off with his shotgun. Throughout his whole drunk rampage he had only struck me once. He cracked me upside the head with a whiskey bottle, and then just left his ten year old lying there in Jack and blood."

Wesker ran his fingers upon the scar that resided there. A trail of white skin above his left eye and running down just above his ear. One of two scars that Albert Wesker shall never deny.

"When I moved out it was because I had gotten a job offer from Umbrella. At first I declined them when I realized that Umbrella fueled my father's fire but then I took to mind the power and privilege that came with the art of playing God. And that's what I wanted. Power. I wanted to show the world, more so I wanted to show my father that he could be _nothing _compared to what I could become. I surpassed him. And then I sealed the deal between us, drew the line."

"You… killed him didn't you?"

"I did." Wesker answered simply.

**A/N: Again, sorry for the delay, I know how many of you follow and love this story so this chapter is dedicated to you guys, my loyal and helpful supporters. Thank you guys! Next chapter you won't have to wait so long for. **

**Poor Wesker! I always thought that Wesker had a shitty childhood and that's why he turned out the way he did. Well, maybe that was half the reason why the other half being Umbrella and them crack heads. **


	10. I Ran

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**:V I hate being late…**

_Breach in laboratory sector. I repeat, breach in laboratory sector._

The blaring monotone female voice of the Red Queen woke Wesker from his sleep. He rolled out of his bed and grabbed his Samurai Edge from his dresser drawer, cocking the weapon and moving from the dresser to his door quietly, stealthily.

He swung it open and pointed the gun into the hallway, he then opened Claire's door and jogged over to the bed.

"Claire! Claire you need to get up right now, we're being attacked."

"Wha?" Claire grumbled groggily.

Wesker sighed sharply, "Just get your ass up and take this." He handed her a Glock.

"What the hell is going on?" Claire asked hastily, following Wesker out of the room.

"I think we're being robbed." He stated simply, walking down the stairs. In the living room there was a window broken and glass littering the floor.

"Robber?" Claire asked. "By who?"

"One can only guess," Wesker said quietly.

He grabbed his laptop from under the couch and stuffed some documents into the bag.

"Go back upstairs and get your things, we have to leave here before they find _us._"

"Where are we gonna go?" She yelled.

He pointed to the stairs. "Go!"

He waited while she packed away her things, and he scanned the rummaged room. The windows were broken and the cushions from couches and lounge chairs thrown about. The coffee table was smashed, drawers hanging out, and the lamps were broken on the floor.

Claire came down the stairs hastily and threw a bag at Wesker who caught it with ease.

He ran to the door and kicked it down, not wasting anymore of his time.

"Get it," He demanded.

Claire obeyed and got into the passenger seat of the black Cadillac. He started the engine, while the intercom blared in its monotone voice. Wesker opened his laptop and quickly brought up a window and rapidly typed commands onto the terminal. A timer popped up and began counting down.

The intercom blared, _"System shutting down, all data being transferred." _

Another window popped up confirming his transfer.

"_Red Queen successfully transferred."_

The timer still counted down menacingly, only 15 seconds left. Wesker backed up the car and put the house in his rearview.

"Come on…" he ground out quietly.

"Why in the hell are you going so fast?" Claire demanded, clutching the arm rest.

Behind them, only moments later, the house was engulfed in a fiery storm of debris and shrapnel, the heat from the explosion caused the trees to singe away their leaves and bark, windows imploded and the sky around them turned a horrific dark. Smoke billowing from the steady wind.

"That's why," Wesker stated.

XXXXX

They had driven for a good three hours, only stopping for food and gas once. Claire was now asleep in her seat, the darkness of night creeping in from all corners of the land, the street lights of the desolate road flickering on to lead the two through the night.

Wesker spotted a motel up ahead and opted on some rest so they could go further tomorrow.

He killed the engine and sat back in the leather seat, sighing to himself. He turned and tapped Claire on the shoulder. "Claire." She stirred and curled back up. Wesker let out another sharp sigh and got out of the car. He went around and opened her door, grabbing under her arms and slung her over his shoulder. He popped the trunk and grabbed his laptop and their bags and then shifted Claire into his arms. She snuggled against him, mumbling something incomprehensive.

He checked in, the man at the desk eyeing him suspiciously and gave him the room key. He unlocked the door and put Claire down on the bed and covered her with the blanket. The room was decent, not as scummy as he anticipated but beggars can't be choosers.

He placed his laptop on the desk and sat down on the side of his bed, taking off his shades and placing them on the nightstand. He rubbed his face in his hands, taking in a deep breath and turned around to glance at Claire.

Wesker took off his shirt and boots and socks folded the garments neatly and placed his boots next to the pile. He pulled up the covers and slid beneath them, taking in the cool fabrics touch. Claire turned over and her blue eyes fluttered open and met his hellish red ones.

"Are we safe?" She asked him.

He nodded.

"Why did we run?"

Wesker was silent for a moment and was about to answer when Claire asked another question. "Why did _you _run?"

She was right. _Why _did he run? First things first, he wasn't a coward and it was never in his nature to run away from the threat but to fight it. He had a feeling in his gut that told him he ran for her.

For her safety and if that was true, if that was what he was telling himself, than it was true.

"I ran because I feared for your safety, Claire."

**A/N: Aw, Wesker! You're so sweet!**


	11. Devil's Advocate

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**I'm sending you all an important message so look out for that.**

Claire fluttered her eyes open, her ears picking up the sounds of someone moving about the room hastily. She sat up, rubbing the back of her head and watched Wesker muse around the room looking with a look of disgust no his handsome face.

"Wesker… what are you doing?" She asked cautiously.

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing that hellish red. There was sweat dripping steadily down his face and his fists were clenched tight, his fingernails splitting the skin and causing him to bleed.

Claire jumped out of the bed… something was very wrong with him, he looked like he was in some sort of pain yet he looked like he was ready to kill.

"Wesker…" She walked towards his hunched form, his breath coming in swift puffs through his nose and his chest heaved violently. She touched his neck, his skin like fire on hers and he flinched, making a throaty growl. His pulse, although he looked hyped, was slow and lethargic; the beats were unsteady, rapidly changing in pulse from slow to… too slow.

He coughed violently, spits of ruby blood forming at the corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away on impulse with the back of his hand. He gripped her shoulder tightly and bore his eyes right into hers and brought her ear to his heaving lips.

"G-go out into the… the car," His finger lifted to her hand and he dropped the keys with her. He doubled over, letting a roar of pain escape him. "Trunk… black bag…" His words were like whispers almost, barely comprehendible. She tangled herself from him and ran to the door; she turned around as Wesker crashed to his knees.

"I'll be right back, Wesker! It's gonna be alright."

Wesker waited… it seemed like forever… Claire's words rang in his head. _"It's gonna be alright." _He hoped to whatever god was up there it was. This wasn't good at all, he was in a weakened state and with his body on this surge anything could happen. Recovery took about a day, maybe even longer if treatment wasn't adequate. But he would be treating himself so all was well… for now.

Claire came bursting through the door, Wesker's black duffle bag in her hand. She bent over him and unzipped it, searching frantically for the contents. Her hands found a syringe… this had to be what he needed.

She panicked and looked at Wesker, "Where do I put it?" she asked frantically. He snatched it from her hand and stabbed the loaded syringe into his neck, pushing down the plunger with unsteady hands. His breathing started slowing down, his heart beat normally and his eyes regained the collection they once held. The thin layer of sweat covering his tanned chest, still shirtless from sleep was now receding; the small cuts on his palms weren't healing though.

"Why aren't you healing up?" She asked with concern.

"Because I have to recover… I was sick if that's how you want to put it. I was low, too low on my injections." 

"You have to inject yourself to stay healthy? With what?"

Wesker sat up against the bed and sighed heavily. "My virus constantly tries to turn on me, it tries to overtake my cells and mutate me because that was what it was made for. Although my body and my blood adapted to it, the virus never really accepted me as a decent host. As unbelievable as it sounds…" he said remorsefully. "So I created a serum. A small dose of the virus that keeps the cells within my body satisfied knowing that it's getting a daily dose of life. It needs itself to live, when you take away a virus, although they are not living, when you take away a virus host cells you're killing it because that's what it needs to survive. If I don't take it daily, my body turns on itself, the virus taking over the major functions of the major cells."

"It's dangerous isn't it?"

"In this state I could be killed, yes."

A wicked thought popped into her head… if she could kill him she could get away. But she was willingly staying under Wesker's wing until he safely gets her out of harms way… and that was _his _enemy. Even if Wesker's body was at full human capacity he was still fully capable of killing someone.

"I'm gonna go get you some water and give you some space to cool down," She sat up and looked down on him, vulnerability flashing across his face. "I'll be back."

XXXXX

Claire returned to the room a few minutes later carrying two bottles of water and a magazine. Who knows how long they would be here.

She fumbled for the key to the room but she stopped when she heard a yell come from inside of the room. She dropped the water and the magazine and pressed her ear against the door.

It was silent.

She turned the key in the lock slowly, literally anticipating the worse.

The door creaked and she peeked in… nothing to be seen.

More importantly…

No Wesker.

"Albert?" It was the first time she had used his name and it came out soft and her voice cracked with fear.

Suddenly, something behind her had wrapped around her neck, chocking her and she tried to pry it off but to no avail. He attacker had her pinned against the nearest wall, holding her against it with their body.

"We don't want you to start screamin' now do we?" He asked her, his British accent thick. He dragged her by her hair and spun her around, shoving a cloth in her mouth for a gag. "Come on now, we gotta give to the boss."

He pulled her away from the wall and dragged her into the bathroom where there were two other men huddling around the toilet. "This was the other one; she walked in on our little tirade."

A man turned to face Claire, he was smoking on a fat cigar whose pungent smell wafted through the small bathroom, he smiled, and two pointed canines flashed and a wicked smile to go along with it. His brown hair was short and ducked in the front, and his thick fingers ran through it steadily. He was clad in a black suit with a deep blue tie, the cuffs of his shirt embedded with emeralds.

He looked deathly rich and deathly dangerous.

"Take that foul thing from her mouth, Ethan," He told the man holding her. He nodded and tied the gag from her mouth, on a rebellious impulse, Claire spat at the man's shiny black shoes. He only chuckled and took another long puff from his cigar.

"Where's Wesker?" She demanded. Again, the mysterious man chuckled and moved aside. Wesker was tied to the toilet with rope, duck tape, and zip ties. His head hung and blood slowly dripped from a gash above his eye.

Not healing.

"Ah so you're an acquaintance?" The man asked.

Claire shrugged bravely, "Maybe. What's it to ya?"

"It seems you'd like to go straight to the why of your little situation. My name is Mikhail Wolfrick… and I've waited a long time for this moment. Years ago Albert Wesker created and destroyed my company, HCF. He was the reason Rockfort Island went to hell, he was the reason for all of the lost research in Spain because he can't _handle _himself."

There was a deep, menacing laugh from behind Mikhail and he turned to see Wesker laughing and shaking his head. "You are forgetting one major aspect to your plan, Mr. Wolfrick… I'm Albert fucking Wesker!" His pride and ego got the better of him, and knowing Wesker he wouldn't let this man forget who he was and how glorious he was.

There was a pitch of fury that swelled in the room and Mikhail lifted the lid of the toilets tank, brining it up over his shoulders and smashed Wesker on the temple. His head snapped sideways and for a split second, Claire feared that he was dead.

The blood that leaked from his wound was dripped onto the tile floor and Claire could faintly see a trace of his skull.

She squirmed in her captors grip and tried to free herself. "No! Wesker!"

Mikhail dropped the lid onto the floor with a loud clang, blood smeared around the corner. "So sorry, love." He said, his Brit accent coating the words thickly. "But what this bastard deserves is death."

He snapped his fingers and the men dragged her away from the room kicking and screaming.

**A/N: OH NO! Wesker is dead! Haha maybe. NO SPOILER FOR U!**


	12. Death Approaches

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**I don't know why… I have no drive to update- And Then There Were None…**

Groggy…

Exhausted…

Bloody…

Confused…

All of these things were plaguing Claire as she awoke in a dank cell. It was no larger than a half bathroom and on farthest wall were steel bars that out looked into another cell. She saw someone passed out in the corner, their head was low and arms loose with the spite of unconsciousness the victim appeared to have.

Claire scrambled to her feet when memories from the hotel came rushing back at her. Wesker tied down with his virus on a temper and men from… oh what was it… HCF! There it is. Mikhail and his thugs with British accents, Wesker being bashed on the side of the head with a toilet tank lid, blood covering the majority of his face.

And then she was being taken…

Now she guessed that she was taken here.

Claire walked over to the bars and clenched them with either hand, peering into the other cell. She squinted, trying to get a good look at the other captured soul. A jolt of reassurance mixed with the slightest hint of terror shot through her body, she was staring at Wesker.

"Albert!" Claire whispered loudly, trying to wake him up. "Albert wake up!"

His name on her tongue sounded foreign yet Claire kind of liked it.

He stirred ever so slightly, groaning and brining his hand up to his head. "Claire?" His voice was husky and tired, a sigh running through it. He stood upon weak legs, trying his best not to fall over and bleed to death. Blood loss was a very crucial matter and right now, Wesker was down for the count.

He stumbled over to the bars and leaned against them heavily. Claire was able to stick her arms through and hold his face in her hands. "Are you ok?" She asked him. He didn't answer her. Maybe it was a pride thing and for all Claire knew it could just be the fact that he hated himself right now for being defeated, beaten down into submission. His head rose and he bore his crimson eyes into her blues. He wasn't looking at her like she wasn't there nor was he looking at her like he was trying to look _through _her, but Albert Wesker was looking _at _Claire with the utmost apologetic look in his hellish pools.

She let her arms drop back to her sides and then panic set in.

What in the hell were they supposed to do now?

They were trapped in Mikhail's fortress and with little to no hope of escape unless Wesker's body kicked it into gear.

And those chances were also slim.

He was dying.

The mass amount of blood loss combined with improper care for his body and virus was a nasty ass brew of straight up death.

He knew… as did Claire.

Wesker wasn't afraid of death, he was annoyed.

It was just another sharp stick poking his side until he could deal with it no longer and gave in.

But not yet.

Today, Albert Wesker would not perish in the hands of an enemy.

**A/N: This is just a crappy filler. I have to study for exams now, tata! **


	13. Innocents, Victory, and Intimacy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Sorry for the short chap last time, it was kinda a filler for what is happening next, foreshadowing, if you will.**

_This will all be over soon, Albert. _

_Don't lie to him, Miss Redfield…_

_He knows it's only a matter of time before his virus kicks back in and he destroys all of you sorry mother fuckers. _

_He won't be destroying much but himself. Because he won't touch us when we have you. _

She was taken away from him. Her big mouth got her into so much fucking trouble it should have been a crime. Claire was separated from a dying Wesker, again, kicking and screaming. He was weak, and they made sure he stayed that way. They would beat him down, starve him, and even torture him.

Any other man would have given in at the first sight of defeat.

Did Wesker?

Not on _any _circumstance.

She was being held in a containment cell, strapped down in a chair with annoying florescent lights over her head. She struggled for hours to loosen her bonds but to no avail. They were planning something… and this plan would get Wesker to talk. The only door into the room opened up and Mikhail and a few of his henchmen walked in. Mikhail was smoking on a fat cigar, like the day she had met him only a week ago. He smirked at her and puffed more smoke into the small room.

"Miss Redfield, it seems that you are in quite a predicament." He gloated. "And the one person you fear the most cannot help you this time. Tell me, why were you tagging along with the most dangerous man to walk this earth?" He was curious. Why in the world would an innocent looking woman be strutting around with a highly trained killer who showed little to no mercy to those who cowered in his presence? Indeed it was a brain teaser yet, there was an answer to everything.

"That's none of your business," Claire spat.

Mikhail chuckled, "Feisty are we…"

XXXXX

Wesker was on the floor in his cell, clutching his heart for dear life. It felt like it was wrenching about his inside, aching for escape. His breathing was irregular, spurts of blood with every cautious breath he exhaled, and his hands were cold, shaking from the throes of death that was slowly overtaking him without a fight.

He heard a scream.

A scream of pure pain and distress, like the whole world was crashing down on you and there was never enough time to escape.

It was Claire.

Something in Wesker's body sparked and he leapt to his feet with a grunt of strain, and he stumbled over to the nearest wall to lean on. Another scream ripped through the halls, sending shivers down his spine.

She needed him.

This was no more a captor and captive situation.

This was now revenge on those that have taken away his Dearheart.

Unacceptable.

A surge of pure anger ripped through him and his fist flew towards the door, and he sent it flying off its hinges, clattering to the floor below. He shook his hand and clutched his knuckles; pain was still a virtue in such a pathetic state.

But power still remained.

He stalked out of the door and cracked his neck, newfound energy zipping through his body; they would pay the ultimate price…

The strong scent of blood wafted in his nose, the undeniable trail of the smell leading him further into Mikhail's sorry excuse for a "fortress." Numerous doors with familiar scents behind them were tantalizing his nose… death, decay, apples, hand sanitizer… petty things such as those.

The last door at the end of the last hallway was holding what he had desired most.

Claire Redfield.

Her pleading cry of surrender made the skin on his arms and neck prickle with anger, a new emotion surging through his very core. He felt the need to protect her, claim her as his own, and protect her from other predators.

Animalistic in nature yet, so human.

With one last final scream from her lungs, he ripped the door open from the handle, holding it behind him, his chest was heaving and his eyes were pools of flaming blood. He whipped the door into the room, smashing one of the guards into a wall and he slid lifeless to the floor. The three guards remaining in the room backed helplessly into a corner, on their very knees and begging for mercy from Wesker.

And he would not give any.

While they lie in their pools of death, Mikhail fumbled clumsily for his pistol but to no avail. Wesker had him pinned against the wall by his throat while Mikhail gripped Wesker's arms and lashed out with his legs.

"Albert! We can talk about this! I wasn't gonna hurt the pretty lady!"

"No negotiation, Wolfrick." Wesker spat. "You shall get no mercy from me." And with that, Wesker drew back his arm and plunged it into Mikhail's chest. He withdrew his hand, Mikhail's heart resting lifeless in his bloody palm. Wesker slammed the organ onto the floor, and with a roar; he brought down his boot and smashed it into a sick pulp.

He turned to Claire who was groggy and bloody, exhaustion marking her beautiful face. He ripped the straps from her wrist, rope burn setting into her tan skin. He knelt down and stroked her hair softly, her blue hues meeting with his red oceans.

Claire sighed and a laugh was strained on her part. "Lets never do that again," She said sleepily.

Wesker smiled a genuine smile that one would only see once in a lifetime. Those who witnessed it were graces with eternal happiness knowing that there was always a flint of hope in the deep sea of impossible. "One can only hope." He replied, and he flushed his lips against hers in a well deserved kiss of innocents, victory, and intimacy.

**A/N: YAY! Claire and Wesker are safe! So believe it or not, this is the second to last chapter… BEFORE THE SEQUEL BITCHES!**


	14. After The Storm

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**So this is the last chapter to Breathless. Am I sad that's its over? Yeah but I'm really excited for… the sequel! Yes the sequel! So, there will be more details in the author's notes after the chapter.**

_**And after the storm,  
I run and run as the rains come.  
And I look up, I look up,  
on my knees and out of luck,  
I look up.**_

"I grew up being taught that man has the ability to do anything. He could buy his breakfast, kill his lunch, and harvest his dinner. You put him in a hospital, he will be a doctor. He put him in a police station, he will be a sheriff. He can entertain the masses, or sit in the audience while he is entertained. Man is the jack of all trades, he will retain all of the information, and he will look you in the eye when he lies to you. For it is not what man cannot do, it is what he is capable of doing. Learning as he lives and live like tomorrow was his final day. Every night my mother would tuck me in and say, Albert, if tomorrow morning comes and you don't wake up… would you be satisfied with what you have done? Because if not, it's time to start getting straight."

_**Night has always pushed up day.  
You must know life to see decay.  
But I won't rot, I won't rot,  
Not this mind and not this heart,  
I won't rot.**_

When it came to Claire Redfield, it made Albert Wesker furious. She was nothing more than a pathetic human who was a thief. She, like her brother, wanted nothing more than to see him dead.

But it was much more complicated than that.

He face, her hair, he every dip and curve enticed Wesker into a irrevocable state that hypnotized his senses, made his head spin, his heart race until he thought he was dying of a heart attack. The small whimpers she made in his neck were enough to drive him crazy, the warmth of her bare skin on his like ice on fire. Her oceanic blue eyes bore straight into his pits of hell. The lust that swam within them, the fateful pleading in her eyes which told him never to harm her.

Because she knew he would never.

Their limbs were tangled in the black sheets of his temporary bed, the moonlight blazing through the room, and the steady wind from the open window billowed the crimson curtains like waves of blood.

Wesker's lips met hers and Claire shuddered underneath him, pure ecstasy coursing through her veins. She tangled her fingers into his blonde hair, running her fingernails down his scalp and to the base of his neck.

She expected him to be rough and quick but on so many levels, she was wrong. He was gentle; his very touch was soft as if he thought he might shatter her very skin. He thrust into her slowly, teasing her almost. He would assault her neck with his mouth and he would feel her pulse on his lips, making him smirk. This is what he had always wanted, someone who was there for him when the day was ruined and his awful mood set in. Someone who would be able to tell him that everything was going to be alright when they both knew that it was not, someone to hold when the world fell down.

Her constant, muffled moans told him that she was close and he wouldn't halt until she was completely satisfied. With one more forceful thrust, her legs tightened around his waist and her gut clenched hard. She cried out his name, barley able to keep her eyes open and her arms around his neck. Wesker came moments after her, filling her abdomen with heat, and a guttural growl escaped him, veins were taught in his neck. He placed his head on her shoulder, his breath hot on her skin and he kissed her neck. He brought his lips up to her ear and whispered: "I think I love you, Claire."

She stiffened beneath him, he eyes widened and she pushed herself out from under him and rolled on her side to face him. His arch-fiend eyes swimming with something that Claire could not tell… something that told her that he was speaking the truth… like he always did. "Albert," She started. "I don't know… I don't know if I love… you."

Wesker nodded and smiled sadly. "I can't even be sure, Dearheart. But I know that there's something there and whatever it is, I feel for you."

Claire caressed his cheek and kissed his nose. "Well we can always wait and find out," she laughed.

_**And I took you by the hand.  
And we stood tall,  
and remembered our own land,  
what we lived for.**_

_**And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.**_

Claire never found out.

That morning she awoke and he was gone. There was a note on the nightstand:

_To My Dearheart,_

_It seems as if our discovery will have to wait. Something has come up and now I have to leave you. I won't be in the country so do not even bother to try and find me. I know not of when we will see each other again, hopefully it will be sooner than later yet it may be years. I apologize for leaving you on such a bad note but duty calls. _

_There is a car waiting for you outside that will take you wherever you need to go, no questions asked. I do hope that we will see each other soon, if not than I bid you a farewell. _

_Claire, please consider your options before you throw away something worth a lifetime. _

_~Albert Wesker_

Claire clutched the paper, and wondered where he was, what he was thinking. If he was safe or in danger. If he was dead or alive.

She didn't need to pack anything away but the letter in her pocket into the jeans she was wearing yesterday. She got into the car and the man in the driver's seat leaned back. He was thick, and had green eyes that bore right into hers. He was chewing on a toothpick and scratched his shaggy blonde hair. He thrust his hand toward her, "HUNK," he said flatly with a Russian accent.

Claire cautiously took his hand, "Claire,"

HUNK winked one emerald eye, "I know."

_**And now I cling to what I knew  
I saw exactly what was true  
but oh no more.  
That's why I hold,  
that's why I hold with all I have.  
That's why I hold.**_

Claire was back home.

The press hounding her about her disappearance, Chris always on her back about it, the police investigating her case.

They never found Wesker.

Well, "the man who kidnapped Claire Redfield."

It wasn't long before the people shifted out of her life and she was just another normal girl with a very interesting story.

The past did not haunt her like it used to. Wesker's shadow did not plague her mind and he didn't infest her dreams turning them into nightmares. He was just a memory that would never fade. He was stuck in her head like a song, replaying over and over and over again. The night they shared almost two months before fresh on her mind like it was yesterday. The feeling of his body on hers, his hands roaming over every dip and curve of her formation.

Night after night dreaming of him…

XXXXX

1 month later…

Claire rubbed her sore stomach, she had been having recent stomach aches lately, and it was getting to a point where it would constantly make her double over in pain. She called into her doctor's office, and was scheduled to be checked out today.

Waiting rooms…

There were so many interesting people waiting to see the doctor…

"Claire?"

Claire rose from her chair, and smiled brightly at the nurse. "Right this way please," She followed the woman through the hallways and finally landed her in a room. "Please have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Claire said nicely yet the woman did not acknowledge her gesture. She only waited about five minutes until Doctor Chambers walked in. 

"Becky!"

"Hey you!' The woman hugged and laughed together.

"I didn't know you worked here still!"

Rebecca nodded, "Yeah, I'm on call today."

Claire raised her eyebrow "Wait, where's Doctor Hartman?"

Becky wrapped the blood pressure pump around her upper arm and filled the band with pressure. "He's out today so I was called." She unwrapped the band and hung it back on the hook. "So, you're having stomach pains?"

Claire nodded, "Yeah, for the past few days almost an entire week."

"Ok, I'm gonna run an ultrasound to see if there's anything blocking your intestines or if there's a foreign object residing in the stomach. So if you could lie down for me and lift up your shirt, I'll go get the equipment."

Claire did as she was told and laid back on the cushioned bed, lifting up her tank top, resting her hands on her stomach. Becky walked back into the room and set up the monitor. "Ok, this wont hurt, I'm just gonna take a look inside and see if I can't find what's wrong." The inferred camera roved around her belly and Rebecca watched the monitor closely, watching out for any abnormalities. It only took a few minutes of silence before Becky packed up the ultrasound and sighed confusingly. "Well ah, Claire that is quite interesting."

Claire sat up quickly, "What? What's wrong?"

"Well, there's nothing particularly 'wrong' with you…"

"Tell me! Claire panicked.

"You're… you're pregnant."

_**I will die alone and be left there.  
Well I guess I'll just go home,  
Oh God knows where.  
Because death is just so full and mine so small.  
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.  
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.**_

Claire collapsed on her couch and planted her face into a pillow. "I'm pregnant…" She mumbled.

How could she be so stupid? This was all her fault, she slept with Wesker and now she would pay the ultimate price…

Raising Albert Wesker's child.

_**And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.**_

Life was willing to give Claire a chance.

But was she ready to give this child a chance?

What if it turned out to be just like its father? Infected.

If that was the case, how would she deal with something like that? She had no idea where Wesker was and he requested that she not try and look for him, it would be futile. Claire would have to deal with this on her own.

When her brother finds out…

Claire buried her face further into the pillow at the thought of her brother. "Oh man…"

Now it was a matter of decision. If the child was born infected, then Claire would have to make the dreaded decision of termination if it was harmful. But if it was born normal, like her, she would bring it into this world and surround it with people who loved them. Claire wouldn't allow it to grow up like Wesker.

Alone.

It didn't matter if it was Wesker's child or not, it deserves the right of life, the right of a childhood that was brutally ripped away from Wesker and Claire.

She would make it up to this child.

And his mother would always tell him…

"The rain outside was steady, the wisp's of wind battered against the window panes. The falling water tattered against the glass in a pattern, almost like a song. Thunder tumbled in the gray skies and lightning plummeted towards the earth. The day was short, the past was behind us and the present was just beyond our reach. We continued to stray along the path of uncertainty, waiting for the day when we are able to find our way."

**A/N: DONE! Wow, that was great! Thank you everyone for reading, reviewing, and most of all, enjoying! Please look out for the sequel and the synopsis in your inbox!**


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